Wild Things: A Chicagolands Vampire Novel (Chicagoland Vampires) by Chloe Neill

and moved toward me, arms outstretched for a hug and a grin on his face.
    But he was filthy, so I hustled out of reach and pointed a warning finger at him.
    “You’re still disgusting, and for the first time in hours, I’m not. Shower first. Then affection.”
    “You’re a cruel mistress,” he said, but disappeared into the bathroom.
    •   •   •
    I dressed while Ethan showered, grateful for a few minutes of privacy and silence. I checked in with Jonah, advised him what was up, and wasn’t at all surprised by the cursing that followed.
    LEADS? he asked when he’d exhausted his phone’s symbol keys.
    NOT YET , I advised, BUT GABE HAS ASSIGNED US TO INVESTIGATE. WE FIND ATTACKERS, OR WE ARE ATTACKERS .
    YOU GET ALL THE FUN JOBS , he advised. CALL IF YOU NEED HELP .
    ROGER THAT. KEEP CHICAGO SAFE.
    THAT WILL BE EASY , he messaged. ALL THE TROUBLEMAKERS ARE IN LORING PARK TONIGHT .
    I couldn’t argue much with that.
    Ethan had emerged from the bathroom—clad only in perfectly fitting jeans and scrubbing a towel through his hair—when the carriage house’s front door opened and closed.
    My gaze on Ethan’s chest, it took me a moment to recognize the sound and turn my head toward the shuffling in the other room.
    “I’ll just check that out,” I said, moving toward it while Ethan searched for a T-shirt.
    Gabriel stood in the living room in front of the coffee table, arms crossed, watching as Berna and several shifters, her apparent helpers, carried in aluminum trays of food. My stomach, empty and roiling, rejoiced.
    “I have brought dinner,” Berna pronounced, eyeing me nastily, as if there was a chance I’d decline free food. My patience for shifters was growing shorter by the moment.
    “Honestly, Berna, when have you ever known me not to eat?”
    She didn’t seem entirely satisfied with the answer, but I was saved by distraction.
    Ethan walked into the room, hair still damp but fully dressed. Berna’s eyes lit with feminine appreciation.
    “Berna brought us dinner,” I said.
    “That was very thoughtful of you, Berna,” Ethan said.
    “Is for health,” she said, squeezing her knotted fingers around Ethan’s biceps. “For muscles and teeth. Good, strong muscle. Strong. Good.”
    “I think they’ve got it.” Gabriel smirked.
    She humphed and herded her crew back to the door, but not before snapping a towel in his direction.
    “I’ll meet you outside,” Gabriel said, closing the door when he was the only shifter left in the room.
    “Chow time for the prisoners?” Ethan asked. His voice was low, threatening, and very, very alpha.
    Gabriel grunted and headed for the kitchen. While Ethan, Mallory, Catcher, and I exchanged glances, the refrigerator door opened and closed again, and the
clink
of glass sounded.
    He walked back in with a bottle of beer in hand and looked, I realized for the first time, utterly exhausted. He’d probably been playing Apex all evening, and for the festival he’d planned for. Here, finally, he was with people who weren’t his subjects. For a brief moment—a rare moment—he shook off the mantle of power and sprawled onto the couch.
    “The Pack is pissed,” he said, taking a drink of the beer. “No,” he amended, gesturing with the bottle. “They’re scared. And that’s infinitely worse.”
    Ethan considered the admission for a moment, then took a seat on the couch across from Gabe. If you hadn’t known they were Apex and Master, you might have thought them athletes relaxing after a game. Or A-list actors between scenes on a movie set. There was just something about the supernatural that brought out the best in male genetics.
    Taking cues from the alphas, Mallory and I took seats as well, and Catcher followed. I sat beside Ethan, comforted by the closeness of his body and the smell of his cologne, the familiar things that brought comfort in unusual times.
    That, I thought, was one of the best parts of being in a relationship. No matter how foreign the